During the past month I’ve run across a load of “How-To” articles—once a staple of community weeklies and USA Today—and maybe it’s a coincidence, but probably not. Most journalists/commentators have run out of anything to say that approaches a minimum level of substance. Eight days ago, it was all over the media that polls can’t be trusted; makes no difference, poll-driven stories dominate political “news.”
The New York Times’ Bret Stephens, once worth reading, no matter his opinion, is a prominent example. I noted last week that Stephens, running on empty, now resembles a fortune teller’s assistant at a county fair. His laborious August 4th column, which I believe he really thought about, is one more exercise in the obvious and condescending
Under the headline, “I’m Begging You: Never Write With A.I,” Stephens (I’m not sure who his 800 words are directed at; definitely not anyone under 35, who by and large don’t read the Times, but maybe the colleagues in his isolated world) says that using AI for school papers, emails, personal letters, speeches and wedding toasts, is causing a literacy and cultural abyss.
I’ve never heard that opinion before!
He writes: “The problem with writing with A.I. is that it’s mentally enfeebling—an escalator toward a result when you really need to make a daily habit of taking the stairs.” I almost always take an escalator or elevator to a destination that’s more than three stories above, but I get his feeble joke.
Here he sounds like a flustered, frustrated and under-paid high school teacher (blame the unions!) lecturing to a class: “[Writing] compels thought. It compels thinking in ways that silent contemplation or spoken language rarely can. It compels us to subject our thinking to the effort of articulation, the rigors of grammar, the tests of intelligibility and coherence, the inspection of others.” That sounds like a paragraph that was “composed” while on a escalator, but maybe Stephens is wearing a hairshirt for contemplating using ChatGPT for a boost, not unlike an athlete (Cal Raleigh?) who dabbles with PEDs to stay competitive.
His conclusion races to the bottom of Times-speak, in the quicksand at the bottom of Cripple Creek: “The next time you’re tempted to just adopt an automated response for a text message or an email, don’t. Type out a response that’s your own. Think of it as an act of free will. Or a vote against Trump. What takes you a few additional seconds is an act of resistance against an ever-dumber world.”
That reads like A.I. Forget the 40 lashes, Bret, double the total.
Anyway, how is that “act of free will” a “vote against Trump”? How is it an “act of resistance”? Never mind lame-duck Trump, whose long and dopey Truth Social posts are “word salad,” the phrase once applied strictly to Kamala Harris, but now for any candidate (most) who isn’t acquainted with “the rigors of grammar.” Also, isn’t Stephens’ maybe-it’s-real-maybe-it’s-AI column annoyingly solipsistic? Not everyone is a writer, not everyone earns a considerable paycheck (and the accompanying TV appearances and guest speeches) from the Times, and not everyone gives a shit about AI. I do, kind of, and have never used any “Cliff’s Notes” shortcut for writing articles, emails or texts. That isn’t “resistance” on my part, just a preference.
Over at The Wall Street Journal on August 12th, Gary Saul Morson, a professor of Slavic literature at Northwestern University (which, incredibly, still attracts suckers to pay over $75,000 for a one-year journalism degree) gave a “How-To” on avoiding spam calls. Like most people, when I receive a spam call or text, I just delete it. It’s irksome—but not as bad as wondering if Bret Stephens is an AI acolyte; my own hobbyhorse, admittedly, but reasonable and not worthy of even one lash across my back—but not a patch on arguing with a non-human at a bank or utility company. Morson tries to elevate his essay by suggesting that a system be put in place where consumers can charge telemarketers for their intrusions, but that’s a really a fig leaf (or pipedream) for blowing off steam.
He vents: “[W]hen I at last achieve the intense focus my job requires, I am startled by a call from those generous people who want to help me out of my financial problems… My wife needs my attention urgently but I don’t grasp her meaning as the spam call drowns out her voice.” Morson’s 84 and learned enough, you’d think, to tamp down the irritation. As for his wife, she probably retrieved the rolling pin when Morson’s spam call took precedence over whatever was “urgent.”
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023